


Drabbles

by fightingthecage



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-26
Updated: 2013-04-26
Packaged: 2017-12-09 13:25:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fightingthecage/pseuds/fightingthecage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles written for the lifein1973 LJ comm. They're unrelated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drabbles

**Author's Note:**

> I, II and III are double-drabbles, i.e, 200 words. All Untitled.
> 
> IV - For the prompt 'Gossip'
> 
> V - For the prompt 'Regret'.

 I.

When he kisses him, it’s hard and painful. A clash of teeth, a grunt of surprise. The fists bunched in the front of his shirt don’t loosen, and he has time, just, to register a quirk of the lips squashed against his. And then he’s catapulted away, bouncing painfully off the filing cabinet, one of the handles catching him right under the shoulder blade.

He’d expected a reaction, of course. In all the times he’s imagined this, there’s been a reaction. Fury, or reciprocation. He’s ready for either. But not this. Not this sense of bewilderment, that pout, and the hair sticking up from their tussle, the raking of his fingers through it. Gene looks like a confused little boy, six feet tall with shoulders you could hang your washing off.

‘I don’t understand.’

Sam raises his hands. Apology or defence, he couldn’t say. Both, probably. ‘Look, I’m sorry…’

Gene isn’t listening. He’s staring at him, and then at the floor, as if trying to force it to make sense. ‘I don’t get it. Is this what you…is this what all your shit’s been about?’

It’s Sam’s turn to not understand. He’s staring at a face that’s confused, yes, but disappointed too. Like Gene thought there was more to it than this. As if Sam has had answers all this time – make them better coppers, make him a better man. As if Sam knew the way forward. It’s all there on Gene’s face, and his chest constricts.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…’

Let him down. Make this about sex. But there’s no time for explanations. He doesn’t try to dodge as the fist travels towards him. The world slows, gives him time to find green eyes, sad behind the punch. And it’s his heart that squeezes this time, but there’s no time for anything but the crunch of his nose as it breaks, and the flash of pain before it all goes black.

It takes two weeks for his face to return to normal, but two years before Gene trusts him again.

 

~ ~ ~

 

II.

Sam wonders what kind of lover Gene would be, if he were real. These hands, for example; currently smoothing over his ribs as he kisses his way south. Sam looks at the ceiling, and thinks that if Gene were real, he wouldn’t stroke. He’d fumble, and push. He’d manhandle him into place. He’d never go down on him, not in a million years.

There’s a mouth around his cock. Firm, but gentle, just how he likes it. Not how Gene would really do it. He’d suck too hard, push him to the point of pain. He’d squeeze his nuts to stop him coming, laugh with delight when he started to beg. He’d make him come harder than he ever has, and look smug about it after. He wouldn’t kiss the bruises better, and he’d sooner slap Sam than cuddle him.

He sighs, and melts into the mattress. His fingers slip into Gene’s hair, so soft it can’t be real, so good he can hardly take it. He wants to believe it, but it’s fake, it has to be. Fake hair of a fake man, who pleasures him as if he loves him.

 

~ ~ ~

 

III.

‘What’s it worth?’

Edwards stands over Gene, grasping a fistful of his hair. He’s gagged him, and dragged his head back, and the edge resting on his larynx has already parted skin. Blood dribbles down rough blond stubble, and Sam can’t breathe.

‘No. _Stop_.’

‘No going back now. Can’t let him loose.’ He shoves to emphasise, and the bottom drops out of Sam’s stomach as Gene grunts; Sam sees him pushed into the blade, sees it slicing veins and arteries, a perfect sprayed arc of red before Gene’s big heart pumps his life down his front. He could throw up, and it hasn’t happened yet.

  
‘Please.’

‘Thought you wanted rid of him.’

He’s sweating ice down his neck. Gene’s eyes are unwavering. There’s no fear there. Just anger, because yes, Sam did this. He thought if he destroyed him, he could leave.

‘I’m so sorry.’

Gene just blinks. It’s all he can do. Not much else Sam can say.

‘I was wrong.’

In the end, the definitive step is easy. Sam turns his gun. Gene’s worth a lot, but freedom’s worth _everything_. He doesn’t live in fear, and won’t be trapped in love. Home is just a shattered brain away.

~ ~ ~

IV.

Everyone goes quiet when they walk into the canteen. Maybe it’s the Guv; people pay attention when he’s around. But the voices don’t pick up until they’ve left.

 

The corridor is filled with stares, roaring in their silence.

 

‘They know, don’t they?’

Gene sticks his hands in his pockets, head down, hidden. Only in his office, past Ray’s averted eyes, does he reply.

‘Yeah.’

He lights up, and sits, and pulls an envelope from his desk. It says ‘Rathbone’ on the front.

‘Gene, no.’

‘Sam, yes.’

 

Being chosen over Gene’s career shouldn’t feel this bad. He’s never hated 1973 more.

 

~ ~ ~

 

IV.

 

‘I didn’t want to come here. Been-‘

Sam stops, looks away, bites his lip. Shakes his head.

‘-been putting it off for a year.’

It’s not that he’s expecting a response, but the expression he imagines is harsh even by Gene’s standards. Of course. He’s being a nancy boy. Real men don’t run and hide.

‘I’m sorry. Alright? Call me a nancy, but I couldn’t face what I did.‘

His throat is thick, but real men don’t cry either.

‘I should have come back for you.’

He leaves a bottle by the headstone. Gene wouldn’t have any use for flowers. 


End file.
